Undone
by Niobe563
Summary: How does Olivia react following Fitz's rejection? Takes place after Season 2, Episode 14 "Whiskey Tango Foxtrot".
1. Chapter 1

For the second time in as many weeks I'm in bed, unable to get up. I don't know what day it is; I don't know how long I've been here.

Fitz's words keep echoing in my head—the ice in his voice—saying he changed his mind, calling me a mistress for the first time. And I know, deep down, I made a horrible mistake.

I fell in love with Fitz.

Everything else snowballed from there. If that hadn't happened, if I hadn't gotten caught up, lost control, I wouldn't be here in bed, unable to get up. Not knowing what day it is, not knowing how long I've been here.

I was blind.

I was stupid.

I let my guard down.

It can't ever happen again.

It won't ever happen again.


	2. Chapter 2

What was I thinking? Fitz was married, running for president of the United States. What possible hope did I have that we would be together? That's why I left the White House in the first place. Because there was no hope.

And then he got shot. And I felt myself dying every day he lay unconscious. When he came back, he seemingly had a crystal-clear vision of what he wanted:

Me.

Us.

Screw everything else.

And now suddenly, it's all different. _He's_ different. He's not the man I saw in Cyrus's office just a few weeks ago.

"_Just say it," he said, kissing my mouth, then my neck, the heat from his lips against my skin sending frissons down my _spine. _"Say…you'll…wait…for…me. Wait for me, Olivia."_

I almost told him yes right then. But I knew he wasn't thinking clearly. He wasn't thinking of the fallout, of the damage trying to divorce Mellie would cause. Never mind the public opinion polls; even if he managed to survive with an approval rating above zero percent, she would have his balls for breakfast. And he would be finished. As president. As a public servant in any capacity. I wasn't sure I could be the reason for that.

But then I thought of becoming Edison's wife, of living day in and day out with a man I respected but didn't live for, of spending my nights loving but not feeling aflame with passion. And I couldn't do it. So I gave him the ring back. And I told Fitz I would wait.

And he told me it was over.

I have seen many sides of Fitz, but I had never seen him so cruel. When I finally left the church and it started to sink in, it started to make sense: if he ended things between us to shore up his political future, he had to cut me off at the knees. Didn't he? I wouldn't have just gone away, not after everything we've shared. He had to be sure he had broken my heart, had to be sure I would hate him. Didn't he?

I don't know. I question the plausibility of this. After so long of swearing that I was more to him than a mistress, to use that word against me…I think he could've told me the truth, told me he couldn't walk away from Mellie without risking everything he's worked so hard for and I would've understood. And I would've walked away from him. For him.

So the question still gnaws at me. Why? What could make a man hell-bent on divorcing his wife change his mind so swiftly?

Yes, losing the presidency is a powerful motivator.

Yes, possibly never seeing your children again is a powerful motivator.

Love is also a powerful motivator.

Could it be that Fitz re-discovered feelings for Mellie as she gave birth? As she's nursed and cared for his new son? I often wondered if the pregnancy plot would bring them closer together. In fact, feared it. Maybe I refused to see the deepening connection as I watched them on the news. Maybe it really wasn't an act on his part. But every time I saw Fitz in person, there were no signs he was falling in love with her again. There were no signs that he was falling out of love with me.

Now I wonder if he loved me at all. If this all was just some game to him; if I was just some thrill to pass the time. Maybe the chase was all he wanted. And when the car stopped—when I finally said yes—the thrill was gone.

Or maybe he was tired of me walking away. Maybe I should've said yes immediately when he asked me to wait. Maybe he wondered if I still loved him. After all, I had been dating Edison again for weeks and had the nerve to tell Fitz I was going to marry him.

I run through the scenarios in my head a thousand times. What did I do? What didn't I do? Why is this happening? How can I put everything back together?

I have no answers. I don't even know where to start.


	3. Chapter 3

My house phone rings periodically. I answer each time, hoping against hope that it's Fitz. It never is.

Harrison called, an hour ago. Maybe two? I told him to keep Huck away this time. I just need to be alone, completely alone. I just need to pull myself together, get used to life without Fitz.

I have moments when I think I'm there, when I think I'm ready to throw off the covers and get up and do something productive. But I never quite make it. Some memory of Fitz seizes me, some remembrance of his smile or a joke he told or the way his hands caressed my breasts, my stomach, my thighs. And I'm crippled by this searing pain in my chest. Then I cry until I'm hollow. And the pain cripples me anew.

I knew it would end this way.

I knew it and I did nothing to stop it.


	4. Chapter 4

A thought occurs to me as I lay staring at the ceiling. My last conversation with Fitz has just done another lap through my mind.

_"I mean, you believe my presidency is more important than anything, right? You worked so hard to get me here."_

The words turn over and over; they tumble backwards and forwards, upside down and around. He said I worked hard to get him there. So hard to get him there. There's a strange emphasis on the words "so hard" that I didn't notice before. In that hazy moment when he cut my heart out, I thought he was talking about all the days with little food and all the nights with little sleep I went through during the campaign; the countless phone calls, the endless strategy sessions, the perpetual preparation. I thought he was talking about the blood, sweat and tears I poured into getting him elected.

Maybe he was talking about something else.

Maybe his about face has nothing to do with fear of losing the presidency. Maybe it has nothing to do with some re-kindled love for Mellie.

Maybe he knows.

I bolt up from the bed, the pieces snapping into place.

_"I mean, you believe my presidency is more important than anything, right? You worked so hard to get me here."_

I wanted Fitz to be president.

I wanted him to be happy.

I helped make sure he would be.

What if what I wanted most has ultimately cost me the most?


	5. Chapter 5

I'm up and pacing. I've pushed rewind on the days before Verna died. Who could have told him? Certainly not Hollis. And certainly not Cyrus. Mellie? No, she, too, has too much to lose.

It had to be Verna. Did she tell him before she died? Did she confess everything? Defiance? The shooting? But why?

_The same reason you almost did the same thing_. _Because she couldn't live with it._

Oh. My. God.


	6. Chapter 6

I'm up and pacing and thirsty. It's like a fog has lifted and I'm seeing clearly for the first time since I left the church. I think I finally know why Fitz changed his mind. I have no proof. I have nothing but a strong suspicion. But it's the only explanation that makes sense.

I feel a strange sense of calm at the notion that I may know why. It doesn't change the reality that he doesn't want to be in my life or want me in his, but it's something. It's something I can work with.

I look around my bedroom and know I've been neglecting myself. I'm not sure when the last time I drank something was. I see an empty bottle of wine and a glass, and a couple of water bottles next to my slippers on the floor. One is half full. Nor am I sure of the last time I ate something. I venture into the kitchen and see no plates, no pots. Not even an empty popcorn bag.

_Hmm, that's probably not a good thing_. I'm sure I need to eat, but I have absolutely no appetite now.

I want chai. I go through the motions of setting the water to boil and adding the leaves to my mug. The more and more I think about it, the more and more it makes sense. Fitz knows we rigged the election. He knows I was a part of it. Of course he wants nothing to do with me.

I take my tea and head for the living room. Now that I know—at least I think I know—what happened, maybe there is some way to salvage this. Maybe hope isn't totally lost. I'm about to sit and think this all through again when someone knocks at my door.

I don't want company.

I listen to the knock, eliminating the possibilities.

It's not Fitz.

It's not Edison.

It's not Cyrus.

"Olivia," Harrison calls. "Olivia, it's me. Open up. Please."

I process his request as I take a sip of my tea.

"Olivia, I'm worried about you. Please open the door."

I process his request a little more quickly. As much as I don't want company, I don't want anyone worried about me either. It occurs to me that I've been holed up here long enough for someone to be. Otherwise, he wouldn't be here.

I unlock and open the door. I think Harrison breathes a sigh of relief and then holds his breath again at the sight of me. I suddenly wished I hadn't opened the door. Or at least looked at myself in the mirror before I did. I must look like hell.

"Can I come in?" he asks. I step back and he enters. "Liv, are you okay? I called you two days ago and you said to tell Huck to stay away."

"That was two days ago?" I say incredulously. "Harrison, what day is it?"

"Sunday."

Verna's funeral was Monday. Shit. It's been almost a week.

"You didn't come in to work after the funeral, which was no problem. But then you didn't come in Tuesday or Wednesday and you didn't call."

"So you called me Wednesday?"

"Wednesday night. And all you said was to tell Huck to stay away and then you hung up. Liv, you know I wouldn't be here if…

"You thought I was okay."

Harrison nods. "We were all worried. Me, Huck, Abby, Quinn. We thought…maybe something happened to you."

I'm stunned by the fact that I've been out of it so long. "I'm sorry," I say. "I'm sorry for not…letting you know I was okay. I'm sorry for—" I finally look down at myself. I'm dressed in my pajamas but my feet are bare. And I feel thin. I must look even thinner. "I don't want you to see me like this." I sit down on the sofa and tuck my feet underneath me to try and hide them, to try and hide the fact that I'm a mess.

"Like what, Liv?" Harrison takes a seat beside me, concern etched from his forehead to his chin.

"Like I can't handle this. Like I can't handle my life."

"Liv, I don't know what's been going on. I don't need to know. But I know the last few weeks have been hell for you. And it's okay. We all go through rough times. You're allowed to go through some too."

I stare into my tea for a moment. I'm actually glad Harrison is here. I think talking might help.

"I made a mistake," I whisper. "I…hurt a lot of people. Abby, David Rosen." I ruined Abby's romance with David. I ruined David's career. And Fitz. Have I ruined him too?

"Abby's going to be fine. She knew the risks of what she was getting into with David. If it hadn't been this case, it would've been another one. And he's going to be fine too. He was collateral damage; in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"He was doing his job, wearing the white hat," I protest.

"And sometimes you need to let sleeping dogs lie." Harrison is unequivocal about this, his mouth set in a hard, firm line.

"I think…I think there may have been another casualty," I continue. "Someone I care about."

"How do you know?"

"They…they won't talk to me."

"Then it's their loss. I know you, Liv. I know you did what you did for a reason."

"I'm no saint, Harrison."

"None of us are."

I look at him for a moment. It's true, we're all shades of gray. "So what if I've reached the point of no return? Somehow Abby managed to forgive me. But David Rosen never will." Fitz never will.

"You're a good person, Liv. And if David Rosen or that other person can't forgive you, then they don't deserve you or to be in your life." Again, Harrison is firm, unyielding. I'm often struck by his defense of me. I know he feels I saved his life, and the truth of the matter is I did. But I wonder is that enough? Is saving Huck's, Abby's, Quinn's and Harrison's lives enough to negate the damage I've done to David and Fitz? Is it enough to qualify me as a "good" person?

"I don't know, Harrison. I failed. I let people who were counting on me to carry the white hat down."

"But that doesn't change who you are. You still believe in doing the right thing. Not because it's going to get you something or somewhere. And that's what sets you apart from other people. In the end, that's what makes you Olivia Pope."

I still don't know whether I believe him or not. It's going to take time. I've sunk to a very low point, and only time will tell if I can rise to the top again. "How are things at the office?" I ask, wanting, needing to change the subject.

"They're good. Busy. Clients are more than happy to work with your crack staff, but they're asking for you."

I smile, for the first time in days, at the notion of my "crack staff." I realize I miss them. I miss working. I miss being out in the world.

"I'll be back," I say. "Soon."

Now it's Harrison's turn to smile. "Good. Do you need anything? Take out?"

"No, I'm not very hungry right now." I think about asking Harrison to stay, maybe to watch a movie or something. But I refrain. I think I've shared enough for now. Besides, I don't remember the last time I showered either and I'm in desperate need of one. I follow Harrison to the door, my mug still clutched tightly in my hands.

"Liv, you're going to be okay. I know you've been dealing with some pretty heavy stuff. But the way I see it, you can either let life kick your ass, or you can kick life's ass. You taught me that."

I ruminate on this as I close the door and head back to the sofa. Who was the Olivia Pope that taught him that? Who was the Olivia Pope who rigged a presidential election? Who is the Olivia Pope that's been inconsolable for five days? And who is Olivia Pope now?


	7. Chapter 7

It's been two months since I last saw Fitz. It's been two months since I had eight of hours of sleep in one night. I start off each night lying in bed, wondering where Fitz is, what he's doing, what he's thinking. And when I manage to fall asleep, I dream about him. It's always the same dream.

He's walking away from me, his back turned. My arms are outstretched, reaching for him, but he doesn't stop walking away. And soon, he's just a faded image in my mind. I wake from the devastation of it all. So I get up and work until the sun comes up. And each night, the cycle begins again.

One Tuesday evening, I decide I have to put an end to this, to not knowing the truth. I pick up my cell, ready to dial his number, ready to put an end to this torture once and for all. My fingers hover over his name and just before I hit 'Send', I remember something he said while we were on the campaign trail. Something that makes me put the phone down.

_We were prepping for his new stump speech in Des Moines, the first stop in a marathon Iowa road trip. Six towns, three days. I was seven weeks into the job and the schedule was brutal. But the poll numbers weren't where we needed them to be so I booked Fitz non-stop and had the entire speech re-written. It was late, and Fitz was tired. And he wasn't giving his best performance. But we didn't have time for him to be tired._

"_Do it again," I say. I'm pacing in front of the lecturn and Fitz looks like he's going to kill me on the spot._

"_You can't be serious," he snaps._

"_I felt nothing when you said that speech. You're dialing it in. Do it again."_

"_Maybe that's because you're a hard-ass."_

_I stop pacing and look him in the eye. "No, maybe it's because I represent the millions of Iowa voters you're trying to convince to elect you president. And if I'm not impressed, they won't be impressed. These are hard-working, middle class Americans. How do they know a Republican governor from California born with a silver spoon in his mouth understands them?"_

"_I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth."_

"_You could've fooled me."_

_Fitz sits down, exasperated. Any minute, I think he's going to fire me and put himself out of misery. I wondered sometimes if I pushed him too far. But I knew he had it in him. I knew he could do this._

"_I can always count on you to tell me the truth," he says wryly. "I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not."_

_I wasn't expecting this. I took my candor for granted sometimes. It suddenly occurred to me that not everyone did. "Of course it's a good thing. People who can't tell you the truth aren't your friends."_

"_Is that what we are? Friends?" _

"_Always," I reply quickly. And I mean it. Fitz and I had developed a rapport over the past few weeks, a rapport I suddenly realized I cherished. A rapport built on mutual respect and admiration. I had come to know him better than anyone, his strengths, his weaknesses. I had seen him high, seen him low. I appreciated his love of history and the political process, his belief that people united for a common cause could change things. Working with him only reaffirmed why I did this for a living: to make the world better. And when this was over, I very much wanted him to be in my life. I wanted us to be friends._

"_No matter what? No matter if I deliver a terrible speech in Iowa and lose the state?"_

"_No matter what. But you're not delivering a terrible speech in Iowa and you will win the state. End of discussion. Now do it again."_

I stare at the phone resting on the coffee table because I know I've done the one thing Fitz thought I would never do: lie to him. And there's nothing I can do to fix that.


	8. Chapter 8

I've thought about calling Cyrus. He must know something. He sees Fitz every day. If Fitz knows now, he knows it was all of us. He has to be acting strangely with Cyrus as well.

To my surprise, it's Cyrus who calls me first. He asks me over to Sunday brunch to meet baby Ella. It occurs to me that I haven't seen Cyrus since Verna's funeral. I wonder if that's on purpose. Perhaps he's been keeping his distance to allay any suspicions, let the Defiance investigation die down. I'll find a way to ask him.

"So…this isn't strictly a social visit," James says as the housekeeper clears our plates. It's been a lovely meal, with lovely company. James is overjoyed with little Ella, cradled tenderly in his arms. And Cyrus, well, is Cyrus. Every time I think of him as a father it makes me smile. The irony of life sometimes.

"No?" I ask, sipping my mimosa.

"No. Cyrus and I have something important to ask you."

I look from Cyrus to James and back. What is this about?

"I know you don't like surprises, Olivia," Cyrus cuts in, reading my mind. "But this was something we couldn't ask you over the phone."

Now I'm really curious.

James continues, radiating excitement. "Because you're such a dear friend of Cyrus and therefore a dear friend of mine, we would be honored if you would agree to be Ella's godmother."

I set my glass down to keep from accidentally knocking it across the table. They want me to be Ella's godmother? Really? "You know I have absolutely no maternal instinct in my body, right?"

"Maybe not," Cyrus says. "But we know if something happened to us, you would take wonderful care of Ella."

I'm floored. I look at Ella and my heart constricts. I would be responsible for taking care of her if something happened to James and Cyrus. Could I do that? "She'll be potty trained in what, a year?" I ask.

James grins at my hesitation. "Probably two. Please say yes, Olivia."

I see the same expectant look on Cyrus's face and I know I can't say no. "Of course I will."

"Yes! Did you hear that Ella? Auntie Liv's going to be your godmother." Just as James peers happily at her, she breaks out into a wail. "Don't think of that as her not being happy, Olivia. I just think it's time for her nap. I'll go put her down."

I truly need my mimosa now as he carries her upstairs. "Auntie Liv. Alrighty then. So…who's the godfather?"

Cyrus turns serious. "Fitz."

I feel the blood drain from my face. "You asked him?"

"Yes."

"Before he knew I was going to be the godmother?"

He pauses before answering. "Yes."

"Great. Why didn't you ask Mellie? It would've made things a lot easier."

"James doesn't trust her as far as he can throw her."

"Well, I guess that's a good reason." We're both silent for a moment, hesitant to address the multitude of elephants in the room. I know Cyrus knows Fitz and I haven't seen each other but he doesn't know why. "How is he?" I finally ask.

"Preoccupied. You know, running the country, the new baby. He's got a lot on his plate."

I play with the stem of my glass. "Has he seemed different to you?"

"Well, he's been different since he got shot."

It didn't occur to me that maybe all of this is related to him getting shot. "Is he feeling well?"

"He seems to be. Doctor's given him a clean bill of health. But it's possible there are lingering effects. You don't just get shot in the head and have life go back to normal."

I ponder this some more. Maybe this is all a result of the trauma Fitz suffered. He seemed okay, but maybe he really wasn't. Another theory to add to the list. I search Cyrus's demeanor for signs that things are off with him and Fitz but I see none. Either he's hiding it very well, or everything is fine. I decide not to push. Again, I have no proof that I think Fitz knows. And until I get some, there's no need to rock the boat.

"So what other duties does being a godmother entail?" I inquire. "Babysitting once a month? Taking her shopping? It's probably good if I'm not a complete stranger to her."

"You won't be a stranger, Liv. You know you're welcome any time to come over. There will be a christening when things slow down for me."

So I will see Fitz at some point in the near future. "Great. Just let me know where and when."


	9. Chapter 9

It's been eight months since I last saw Fitz. I'm still not sleeping at night. I still have terrible dreams. I've totally thrown myself into work, more than usual, more than what's required. And I've started swimming again, three times a week. The water relaxes me, takes my mind off everything. Albeit, for a short time. When I emerge from the pool, the pain still threatens to cripple me and have to resist diving back in.

I've searched and searched for some modicum of proof that Verna told Fitz but I've come up with nothing. No letter, no email trail, nothing. It's possible they had a face-to-face conversation. But when? And Cyrus still hasn't alerted me that anything's awry. So I still have just my suspicion.

There are times when I'm sick with missing Fitz. I know he loved me. I know it like I know my name.

"_This isn't theoretical anymore, Liv. It's real. Say you'll wait for me. We love each other. We belong together…"_

And there are times when I am so angry I could scream. I wish I had fallen for someone else. Someone who wasn't married. Someone who didn't make every cell in my body come alive when he walked into the room. Someone who was willing to forgive me. If Fitz does indeed know, he's entitled to nurse his wounds. But he's also being a hypocrite. Fitz has crossed lines too; in ways I know about, in ways I probably don't. We were supposed to be friends, if nothing else. We were supposed to be in each others' lives forever.

The longer I don't hear from him, the more I lose hope that we can have a relationship of any kind. I've given up being together. That clearly isn't going to happen. But I wish…I wish he would hear me out, try and understand my perspective. I'm not the monster he thinks I am. I'm still the woman he fell in love with. I still believe in wearing the white hat.


	10. Chapter 10

I've got a second chance with David Rosen. A woman was found dead in his bed, and he didn't kill her. I'm going to see him through this mess and make sure he's exonerated. If he'll let me. He doesn't trust me. I can't blame him for that.

I know working on David's case has been rough on Abby. She really fell for him. I can empathize. I know a thing or two about loving men you shouldn't.

She's holding it all together, but I see cracks in the surface. She's sitting in my office, worried that David will take the fall.

"Abby, are you—"

I'm fine," she answers quickly. "I'm…I'm fine." It's too quick of an answer. And then she looks away and I know for sure she's not fine.

"Work helps," I say. "So does exercise. Stuff that numbs you, keeps you from thinking too much. Dating also helps but it also helps to remember that he hates you. And it helps to try to hate him too."

"And that works—for you?"

"I was talking about you and David." Abby eyes me warily, and I know she's thinking I'm talking about myself. And of course she's right. I've done everything I can to forget Fitz. Nothing's worked. In the end, you can't tear your own heart out.


	11. Chapter 11

It's been 10 months since I last saw Fitz. That ends today.

Ella's being christened at one o'clock. I pull up to the church and see the presidential limo parked a few feet away. I've tried to prepare myself for this moment for months, but I have no idea of what will happen. What Fitz will or won't do, what he will or won't say. It will also be the first time in 10 months that he, Cyrus and I will be in the same room together. I finally told Cyrus I'm pretty sure Fitz knows. And Cyrus told me he thinks he's being watched. So there's a 99.9% probability that I've been right all along. I'd give anything to be wrong.

I hold my head high and take a deep breath as I walk down the aisle. Fitz is the first and only thing I see as I approach the altar. Everything else is on the periphery, severely out of focus.

He says nothing.

He just stares at me as if he's searching my soul.

I stare back, searching his.

We go through the perfunctory movements of the ceremony. 30 tortuous minutes down, another 45 to go.

I expect Fitz to become distracted at the reception but he doesn't. He hasn't taken his eyes off me for a moment. He smiles politely when needed, then stares at me. He drinks, then stares at me. I feel like I'm under water and I can't come up for air. It's like his gaze is holding me just beneath the surface, and no matter what I do, I can't break free. I used to know what that gaze meant. It meant love. Now, I'd bet my life it means loathing. It means disillusionment. And I can't stand it.

I thought I could do this. I thought this was what I wanted. To see him again, to breathe in his scent. To have a chance to say I'm sorry. But I can't. And it's not. I've endured this for almost two hours now and I'm done. I knock back my wine and slip out the door, more desperate than I thought when I finally reach the hallway. My feet can't carry me away fast enough.

I quicken my pace when I hear footsteps behind me. I know it's Fitz. I briefly wonder if I should run, if that would increase my chances of escape. But before I can, he's grabbed my arm and pulled me into a side room. And I can't breathe because his lips are on mine.

_What the hell are you doing? You fucking tell me we're over and now you want to kiss me? _I slap him hard, the sound reverberating against the hum of hard drives, his head snapping like a rubber band. He staggers back, momentarily stunned. And I'm confused, heartsick and on fire all at the same time. It's not possible for one kiss to conjure up all these emotions. And yet, it has. I've died a thousand deaths thinking I would never feel Fitz's mouth on mine again. This is what I was talking about when I told Edison I wanted life-changing , extraordinary love. It's the kind love that won't let go even when you want it to. After Fitz, I don't know any other kind. I don't want any other kind.

And in that moment, all the longing and hopelessness I've suffered for 10 months wells up and propels me forward, toward Fitz.

He's here.

We're here together.

I couldn't stop the wave if I wanted to.

It's a blur of skin and tongues and hands. He empties his rage, his anguish, his desire into me, every kiss laced with bitterness, every touch wrought with heartache. And every pore in my body aches to take it all away.

I beg him silently to come back to me. I beg him with every thrust, every sigh. And when it's over, I pray that it's enough. I pray that he won't want to repeat the last 10 months; that he won't want to be without me as much I don't want to be without him. I pray he remembers that I love him.


	12. Chapter 12

We gather ourselves and my resolve to make this right between us comes back with a vengeance.

I debate what to say as we emerge from the room. How can I express how sorry I am? How can I express that I did it because I love him; that I only wanted him to be happy? That even though it sounds pathetic, it's the God's honest truth?

I decide to start simply. "I made a mistake."

Fitz turns. "We both did. It won't happen again."

_That's not what I meant. I don't regret being with you._ "I was talking about Defiance."

He stalks back so that our faces are only inches apart and his words cut through me like a blade. "That wasn't a mistake. That was betrayal. We are done. I may not be able to control my reactions around you, but that does not mean I want you. We are done." And he walks away, his back turned to me. Just like my dream.

I feel faint, and sick to my stomach.

He hates me.

What we just shared wasn't about love for him.

It was just sex.

He. Hates. Me.

And nothing I say, or do, is going to fix that.


	13. Chapter 13

"_The way I see it, you can either let life kick your ass, or you can kick life's ass. You taught me that."_

I've been contemplating Harrison's words since Fitz left me standing in the hallway. He's right. Life's been kicking my ass for the past 10 months. Because I've let it. And just like Fitz and I, that's over. I will be a lot of things, but used is not one of them. I will not let my love for Fitz—and yes, I still for some God-awful reason love him—or my guilt about what I did give him a license to do what he wants with me whenever he feels like it. He's definitely no saint.

I decide not to waste a moment more wishing for Fitz to forgive me. It's time to forgive myself.

I've saved Jacob's number in case I changed my mind about going out with him. We met at a coffee shop and now I know, through working on David's case, he works for the Pentagon. He seems sweet and he has a nice smile. And he seems very interested in getting to know me.

I get home, scroll to his number and press 'Send'. He answers on the first ring.

~finis~


End file.
